Dance
by Relinquished
Summary: And so you dance. A Ryoufic. Oneshot


**Dance**

Disclaimer: I don't own YGO

Summary: And so you dance. A Ryou-fic.

Author's Notes: Ugh, depressing, kind of. I was watching Princess Tutu, when this decided to pop into my head. I love that guy, Fakia (sp?) - kakkoi! Anyway, this is in second person POV, so it may sound weird.

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Dance

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_A coward deserves no respect._

You walk into class and take your seat. Placing your bag at your side gently, you take out your books. You set everything out and arrange them in perfect order, knowing very well that they will be rearranged later during the day. That done, you then glance over at the window seats.

They don't notice you, too intent on their own conversation. Right now, Jounouchi is telling a joke. You want to know what it is, but you don't want to interrupt. Perhaps you will be able to hear it from where you are now, six seats away. Perhaps not. They laugh as he reaches what seems to be the punch line. Then their conversation shifts elsewhere.

Not even one glance comes in your direction. But this is normal, you tell yourself. You can forgive them for it. Some friends were meant to be, but you weren't. Remember what your other half said. _You are a mistake, a coward_. No one can love a coward. A coward deserves no respect.

But you don't want to be a coward. You want to be brave, _like them_. You want to be able to stand in their circle and know that you are like them. They can sacrifice everything for each other. You want to be able to do so. But you can't. You've tried, but you can't.

_Reality is never kind._

The bell rings for lunch break. Around you, everyone is getting up and taking out their lunches, making for the doorway. You stay in your place. Will you ask to sit with them today, or will you just sit alone? Yugi-tachi are making their way past you, chattering and laughing.

You bite back a sigh of disappointment. You won't be sitting with them today. Even as they passed, they didn't pay you any attention. You shouldn't have been too hopeful. You aren't welcome into their group. But that doesn't matter, because you have homework to do.

Karita-sensei is the last to leave the room, behind the other students. He glances over at you and sneers. The door is slammed shut behind him, while you take out your lunchbox. He still hates you, just like he hates Yugi-tachi. But you're used to it. All that will happen is that you will be forced to bunny-hop around the field again.

You stare at your lunch. They are leftovers from last night's dinner. Rice, eggs and a bit of chicken. Nothing special and nothing worth commending, but it's lunch. You take your chopsticks in hand and begin to eat. The flavour is bland, like everything else you eat, but you don't complain. That was what happened when you lived alone.

And as you eat, you drift into a daydream. One where Yugi-tachi are inviting you to sit with them, to go to the arcade and to stay over. There is no voice whispering in your mind, telling you that you are a coward, a pawn, a host. Your sister stands with Yugi-tachi, her eyes bright and laughter passing through her lips.

Then you are shaken awake from your daydream by a pen dropping from your desk. Disappointment wells up inside your chest as you bend down to retrieve it. You know it won't happen. They would never be able to let you inside their circle and you can't keep them by your side forever.

You've tried, but it only cost you your life.

_Another day ends and you are all alone._

You walk down the corridor of the school, after hours. No one is left here, but the school gates are still open. They will be until five o'clock that evening and it's only three. You have two hours to yourself.

The place is horribly empty and you can hear the echo of your footsteps on the tiled floor. You don't want to go home yet and face the emptiness and darkness of the apartment. But you don't want to stay here and have nothing to do. So you clutch your bag closer and walk towards the one room where you can find solace.

Not many people know about your after school hobby. Then again, not many people know _you_. But you prefer to keep it this way. You can submerge yourself in your hobby without having anyone interrupt you. It's best.

You reach the room finally. You slide open the door carefully and close it behind you. Setting your bag down on one of the tables, you arrange everything else to your liking. A large space has been cleared out by the previous users of this room, but it only suits your purposes.

You change quickly, wanting to make the most of your time left at school today. Your uniform is folded and placed beside your bag and you pull on your outfit.

_And so you dance._

Each movement you make is practiced and graceful. Your limbs are nothing short of flexible as you bend, turn and leap. There is no music, but there is also no need for it. The music is there, in your heart, playing in your mind. The beating of your heart is the pattern and the rhythm.

Each movement is a symbol of your feelings. The loneliness, the yearning and the pain. Every time you leap, your heart soars as well. Each time you land, it's the press of humanity, of reality, that subdues your elation.

You make use of the room cleared out to it's fullest extent. No space is left untrodden as you dance out your life's story. The death of your family, the pain and loneliness caused by your darker half, the gradual dispersing of everyone who had found it in themselves to care about you.

Until you discover that someone is watching you from the window. You can't see who exactly it is, but neither do you care. In the spur of the moment, you dip gracefully into a bow and straighten up. Before too long, you are moving again, pirouetting without your eyes leaving the person at the window.

For the first time in your life, your barest emotions are being witnessed by an outsider. You aren't even sure if you know this person, but you are grateful even for this small bit of attention. They let you know that you aren't invisible and that you can be seen and noticed by others.

When you stop, you discover that the person has disappeared. Panting slightly, you think that maybe the person was just a figment of your imagination. But that is nothing new. You tend to confuse fantasy with reality much too often. You reach into your bag for a bottle of water. As you drink, you rest your feet. Dancing tires you out and yet gives you a sense of accomplishment and content.

_Yet you are still alone._

Sometimes you curse that your apartment is so near the Kame Game Shop. You have to walk past it everyday in order to get to and from school. As you do, you see them laughing and talking inside, never glancing at the window to see who was passing them, too afraid to walk in.

Other times it is a source of comfort, knowing that they are close by. You can run to them for help, should your other half terrorise you again. But the bitterness stays inside you. You know that every time you run to them for help, they will end up hurting you as well. Kami-sama is very fair. He takes away one pain and replaces it with another.

Your pain comes from your other half. In order for Yugi-tachi to get rid of it, they must get rid of your darker half as well. And when they do, they don't know that you will plunge into the dark abyss of loneliness and emptiness that you dread. By taking away the source of one pain, they immediately call upon another.

As you reach the door and begin to walk past, it opens. Your breath hitches a little. Perhaps they will notice how late it is and ask you what's wrong? Silently you pray where you stand, just in front of the doorway as they come out. They do notice you, but only briefly. They greet you and then leave. Still, even that is enough. This is the first time they've greeted you today.

You walk on. It's only a couple more blocks to your apartment and you feel the dread growing inside you. You know your darker half has appeared again from the other realm, ready to give you a piece of his mind about running to Yugi and the pharaoh two months ago.

He doesn't physically abuse you like what usually happens. No, his torture is much harsher and much more painful. Day in, day out, he would whisper in the depths of your mind, slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. But he would never harm you. Never, because your body was his too. As of late, he had also ceased to take over your body, just content in ruining your state of mind.

But still, his dreadful presence is almost welcoming compared to the loneliness and emptiness you have to face when he isn't there. At least when he's whispering in your mind, you aren't alone anymore. His bitter possessiveness was almost a sign that he cared what happened to you - or your body. This kind of caring was different, but at least _someone_ cared.

_No one listens, no one cares._

_Didn't you want this? Didn't you want your friends to be kept by your side forever? I granted you that wish before, but you didn't appreciate it._

You bite your lip and don't say anything. He's talking again. Yes, he had kept your friends by your side before. But it wasn't the way you wanted your friends to be. Why couldn't he understand that? You want them to be alive, breathing, talking, walking - _alive_. The dolls were - were _not_.

_The only way to keep people near you is to control them, to be in control of their every movement._

You know it isn't true. Look at Yugi-tachi. They stay by each other's side all the time, even without controlling each other. _They_ are real friends, ready to risk everything for each other, to _die_ for each other. Yugi-tachi don't need to turn their friends into dolls in order to keep them.

_But they aren't your friends. At least, they don't consider you as their friend._

Yes they do and you know it. They protect you and help you when you need it. You consider them friends and they consider you one too. Don't they?

_That's why they're at the arcade and you're sitting here, all alone._

You're not alone. You have your darker half to keep you company. You're never alone when he's here. He snickers at your thoughts. You are dependent on him, because he never really leaves and when he does, you know he will always come back to you.

_Unlike them. They leave you and that's that._

Suddenly, you want to dance again.

_Ballet is a dance of beauty. You make it an expression of grief and sorrow._

Someone is in the room you usually dance in. They are sitting on one of the desks at the front, arms folded and apparently waiting for someone. You are inside already and you want him to leave. You don't want an audience now.

But he doesn't leave. Instead, he tells you that _you_ are the one he has been waiting for and that he wants to see you dance. You shake your head and he asks you what you are afraid of.

What _are_ you afraid of? The embarrassment? The shame? Or perhaps the probability that, after he sees you dance, that he will leave you like everyone else has? You can't possibly lose more than you already have - you've lost so much that there is nothing more to lose.

Finally you agree. You take up position in the centre of the room, which has already been cleared away. Then you lose yourself to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the music of your emotions, limbs moving gracefully in their own accord. Each movement is weighed down with fear and pain.

His eyes watch you intently, following your every move. It doesn't matter if your dance isn't perfectly synchronised, or has no particular pattern. It seems like he can hear the music in your head and the rhythm beating in your chest and he can appreciate it. This thought elates you and speeds up your heartbeat, your movements following.

Someone is watching and appreciating you. Someone is willing to hear out your woes and your fears without running or being forced to. Every time you turn back around, he is always there, even when you're afraid that he is only a figment of your imagination. His presence isn't as intimidating as your darker half's and it reassures you that you are not invisible and that you are appreciated. You want to thank him for it, but words simply fail you.

And so you dance.

_Words are not the only tool used to express emotions._

You thank him for being here, for watching and for staying. You express your gratitude in dance, the music beating the movement of your body and the beat in your feet as they touch the ground briefly, before lifting again. Never have you felt so unburdened and so free.

And finally, you end your dance, sweeping into a low bow. Your chest feels light.

He surprises you by standing up. His arms move upwards slowly, but gracefully, until they are bent in front of his chest, almost as if cupping a small object. His eyes are closed almost in reverence, hands cradling the air as if something important between them. You recognise the position.

It is one commonly used in ballets. The gesture of feelings too deep to be expressed in real words. The movement which stood for _I love you_.

He is not a dancer like Anzu, but some say that dance is one of the widest known languages in the world. One of the universal languages. One simple gesture meant the same thing throughout the world. This one simple gesture takes away all the loneliness and emptiness inside you.

This someone not only listens to you without running away - this someone _loves_ you. Even knowing everything about you that can be found out from the rest of the school, he loves you. Unrequitedly. This accounts for much more than the times far and few between when Yugi-tachi 'saves' you from your other half, simultaneously plunging you into the abyss of your own despair.

He may not be able to do anything about your other half, but he can save you from yourself. He can keep you company so you don't have to face an empty apartment and a dark room. You won't be alone again when he's here.

Slowly, just as reverently, you mimic his action. A small smile grows on your lips.

_I love you._

You hold out your hand to him and he takes it. The message is clear: _dance with me_. His actions aren't as graceful as a seasoned ballet dancer's, but it gentle awkwardness means more to you than the most beautiful ballet.

And so you dance.

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End

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Author's Notes:

I know nothing about dancing, as you can probably tell, let alone ballet ;

I was inspired by Princess Tutu (especially Fakia - but you guys already knew that) and yeah . . .

Remind me _never_ to write in second person again. It sounds horrible.

And if you don't know who the guy is, then you obviously don't know me too well, or have read any of my other fics. Anyway, there's a first for everything, right?

REVIEW!

Relinquished


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